


Always Coming Back

by akaakeiji



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Coming of Age, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 05:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15430098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaakeiji/pseuds/akaakeiji
Summary: Hajime and Tooru grow up together in a world where being soulmates isn't always a good thing.





	Always Coming Back

Children and laughter and screams should fill the playground, but only two boys are crazy enough to skip a day on the beach to stay there, with bugs roaming around the bushes and sultry air almost sticking to their skin. The sun is too bright, blinding, but Hajime still squints his eyes and slaps the air in front of him as soon as he hears Tooru’s screeched “Iwa-chan!”. He misses, of course, and tries to put his feet down properly, but he fails. He always does. Volleyball is still new to the eleven-year-old boy; he hasn’t learnt how to jump without losing his balance after the spike and there are a million things that he has to master yet. Tooru knows, though, and Hajime is not surprised when he doesn’t fall, because small fingers are ready to push slightly against his back so that he can stand straight again.

“It’s too bright!” Hajime cries, running to pick up the ball before it goes too far. He touches the concrete for a moment and almost shrieks in horror when he feels the heat on his fingers. “And too hot!” he adds.

Tooru pouts for a second, but cracks a smile as he catches the ball that was flying towards him. “Do you want to go to the beach? I can tell mum, I’m sure she’d be happy!” he asks, passing the ball to Hajime again.

Hajime returns it before shrugging and replying, “Nah, it must be hot there, too. Or are you asking because that crush of yours always goes there?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tooru misses the ball and his horrified grimace makes Hajime chuckle. Oikawa sticks his tongue out in return. “Iwa-chan you’re mean! I told you I don’t like her anymore!” Tooru whines.

Hajime has no idea how it feels to like someone, he is smart enough to know he’s too young for that, but Oikawa’s cheeks always go red whenever a girl gives him a note, or when he steps up to push a bully away from whoever is in trouble and their classmates cheer for him. It must feel like that, probably, like heat that paints your face red because you’re uncomfortable, but you still want attention from a cute classmate. He doesn’t know, really, and it’s not like he cares. Oikawa does, though; he cares.

There is this thing about soulmates, which is on top of the list of things that he doesn’t understand, followed by the tactic behind perfect jumps and Oikawa’s habit of grinning like the Cheshire Cat whenever Hajime manages to hit one of his tosses. He feels a bit weird sometimes, but he knows he isn’t; Oikawa is weird, but that’s another thing. Hajime feels too young and out of place when he’s around his friends. They talk and talk about love and soulmates but it never sounds right.

What Hajime knows is that stuff happens to soulmates. He doesn’t understand exactly _what_ or how, and neither does Oikawa, but it happens if you fall in love with your soulmate, that much he knows. Obviously, he also gets the part where your soulmate might never reciprocate, for some reason, or that you might never meet them. Yet, his friends keep fantasizing about girls from video games appearing in real life and he always frowns. His skin itches because he is missing a piece of the puzzle. It sounds like love and soulmates can make people happy, but adults never explain why when he asks, and the more he looks around the less happy people he recognises. His parents never scream with joy or clap their hands like Oikawa does when he is happy.

He remembers a college girl he met once, when he was playing outside all alone after his family had visited Oikawa’s. She approached Hajime and told him to be careful not to hurt himself with his stick and Hajime remembers because she didn’t actually tell him that, she sang: the words were sublimely harmonious and pleasant, the song a happy one. But that wasn’t a thing you sing that way and Hajime knitted his eyebrows; her face was not smiling. He knew what a smile looked like, he smiled whenever his mum put extra agedashi tofu on his plate and Oikawa smiled plenty around him, so he definitely knew what a smile was.

“It’s my soulmate trait,” she clarified; her voice sounded full of pretty emotions but her body was stiff. Hajime thinks she had short dark brown hair, but he can’t remember that, he recalls nothing but dull eyes and thin lips pressed together, and her voice. “Everything I say becomes a lovely song even if I don’t want to,” she chanted.

He remembers asking, “why wouldn’t you want to?” and the girl smiled, but Hajime knew it wasn’t a happy smile.

“Because things aren’t always lovely, are they?” she sang, leaving him with an awry sensation, like the feeling of putting the left shoe on your right foot.

He still thinks about it and still feels it, that sensation of being the witness of something distorted, a merry melody for a melancholic mind. Hajime knows she was right, even if he is eleven. He can hear his parents fight sometimes, his grades aren’t always good and two weeks ago Oikawa hurt his foot and whined for a day. No, things aren’t always lovely, he knows. Why, then, does everyone at school talk about soulmates all the time, even if they don’t have one, even if they don’t know what it means? If this whole thing was meant to make people happy, why did that girl look sad? He guesses he can’t comprehend it yet, even if everyone does, or so it seems.

They keep playing volleyball until the drops of sweat falling down Hajime’s hair start to annoy him. The sun is slowly sinking below the high buildings. He lets himself miss the ball and sits down on the concrete, sighing. He watches Oikawa jog to catch it, lights and shadows travelling along his grey t-shirt as he moves, and then looks at his hands, playing with the sunlight to see if the shadow of his fingers can reach the most distant pebble he can see.

“Your hands are dirty, Iwa-chan!” Tooru says behind his shoulder. He looks up and sees an upside down grin and brown eyes looking at him.

He stretches to catch Oikawa’s hands and smirks, turning them so that his friend can see. “Yours are no better, Oikawa-chan!” he laughs.

Tooru sticks his tongue out, sitting down next to him, and bounces the ball on Hajime’s cheek, giggling. “Oi!” he cries. The dirt on his palms feels as though he had just put his hands in a bag of flour and sand, so he snickers and rubs them against Oikawa’s thighs to get rid of it. Tooru yelps and promptly wipes his fingers on Hajime’s cheeks, laughing. After that, they start tracing prints on each other’s bodies and get lost in their hollers and laughter.

“Tooru! Stop that! You’re ruining Hajime-kun’s clothes!” Oikawa’s mum shouts, walking towards them. The laughter dies slowly and the usual sheepish looks appear on the boys’ faces. Hajime stares around, embarrassment reddening his ears as he catches his fingerprints everywhere on Oikawa’s legs.

He knows that Oikawa’s mother is scolding his son because he doesn’t want to scold Hajime. “Sorry, Oikawa-san,” he whispers, pouting. He knows Tooru is looking at him, but he keeps his eyes on Oikawa-san, who smiles softly at him and sighs.

“Now, now, don’t worry too much about it!” she claps her hands, crouching. “I’ll drive you home and tell your mum that you two,” she pauses, taking their chins in her hands, “are not allowed to touch a volleyball for two days!” she finishes, determined eyes moving from Oikawa to Hajime.

“Mum!” Tooru protests, frowning at Hajime in a request for help. He shrugs; it wasn’t his decision, after all.

Oikawa’s mother takes their hands and lifts them up, sighing. “I might change my mind if you two learn how to behave,” she orders.

She does, in fact, change her mind, and they play volleyball outside every day until the midsummer heat gets in the way.

On the tenth day of June of the same year, Tooru jumps out of bed before he can open his eyes properly and bolts out of the door, beaming. He hates getting out of bed early, but there are a few occasions when he doesn’t even need his mum to wake him up: his birthday, when he has a school trip or morning practice, and today. The excitement he builds up before falling asleep the night before those days explodes punctually before eight, and today was no exception, even if it’s Sunday. Actually, Sunday is perfect.

He runs to the kitchen, imagining all the games they can play in a whole day and wondering if Iwa-chan is going to like the t-shirt his mum picked. He likes it, he can easily picture his best friend wearing it, but he doesn’t think it’s a cool present. He doesn’t think it’s enough. He could draw something for him, but that’s something a girl would do, probably; he doesn’t know.

He sits down, greeting his parents, and before her mum can ask him if he slept well, he gasps. Water is dribbling down the window, drops and pink petals are drowning in puddles outside. He glares at the rain as if he could somehow make it stop, or at least offend it on a personal level. It’s June! It’s Sunday! The poor flowers! The bike he left uncovered outside! The clean window! Iwa-chan’s birthday! All spoilt. He crosses his arms, a frown wandering on his nattō.

“Tooru! Stop with the pout and eat your breakfast, you’ll see Hajime-kun today, don’t worry,” her mother sighs with a smile, shaking her head, and walks to pat Tooru’s head. “I don’t know if I should bless or curse the day you two met each other, honestly.”   

Tooru doesn’t understand what she means, so he lets her walk out and starts nibbling his breakfast in silence, the sound of the rain against the windowsill leisurely slowing down. His feet ache at the thought of staying in for a whole day; he could have practiced with Iwa-chan, that’s what they wanted to do, but he can’t. Time wasted, that’s what it is. His toss could be less imprecise tomorrow, but it won’t. Well, at least Iwa-chan will be there nonetheless, and that’s enough to light up Tooru’s mood.

He knows that Iwa-chan doesn’t like attention, or, more accurately, doesn’t seek it as much as Tooru does, and that’s why there won’t be a proper birthday party. There was a party once and Tooru remembers the way Iwa-chan could not hide his grimace at the sight of ugly birthday presents or during forced hugs; Tooru knows he hates those. It’s something Iwa-chan always notices, the way people act, generally and around him, if they’re faking their laughter or whether their compliments are sincere.

If Tooru has got the meaning of the word _empathy_ right, that’s what he’d use to describe him. He can’t put it into words yet, but he is starting to understand that Iwa-chan sees and perceives more about the world than everyone around them. And Tooru watches, wants to learn from him; he doesn’t know exactly why, but he does. Iwa-chan can easily see through Tooru every time they play in class, his fists closed in front of him, one empty and one wrapped around chalk. He tries to bluff, he tries a poker-face and he tries everything, but Iwa-chan always wins.

This also means that Iwa-chan knows if he’s lying, so Tooru is not surprised when, after lunch, he greets the birthday boy with a hug and a smile that he believes to be genuine, but Iwa-chan responds with a, “you’re acting weird, Oikawa, are you alright?”, freeing himself from the embrace – which Tooru was not faking, by the way.

Iwaizumi-san clears her throat behind him and Iwa-chan rolls his eyes, realising his mistake. “You’re acting weird, are you alright, Oikawa- _chan_?” he asks again, emphasising the honorific. Tooru doesn’t care how Iwa-chan calls him, his family name is good enough, but Iwaizumi-san worries too much about respect and education, so Iwa-chan has to remember to use the honorific when their parents are watching.

“Yeah, yeah…” he brushes the question off and takes Iwa-chan’s wrist before he can even announce he’s entering the house.

“Don’t upset Oikawa-san, I’ll pick you up tonight,” Iwaizumi-san declares with a sigh, wiggling her car keys.

“See you later Iwaizumi-san!” Tooru yells, repressing the instinct to call her ‘Iwa-san’, and leads his friend to the couch in the kitchen.

“You’re acting weird. Really, are you okay?” Iwa-chan insists, sitting down. He crosses his arms on his lap and looks up at Tooru, who is hugging his knees, back pressed against the corner of the couch.

Tooru knows he can’t escape it again; “I just wanted to practice again today,” he admits. It’s not raining anymore, but practice outside is out of the question, that’s what their parents said. But Tooru knows that complaining about it on Iwa-chan’s birthday is not fair, so he just stretches his arms and legs out, grinning. “Whatever, we can play video games and eat the cookies my mum made. There is a lot of chocolate but they’re a little bit burned. Don’t tell her though, or she won’t make them anymore,” he says, now up on his feet, hands ready to lift Iwa-chan up, even if he doesn’t need them.

Iwa-chan takes only one of them and stands up, sighing. “Oikawa, you know that Kitagawa Daiichi will let you play in their team, right? There’s no need to worry about missing practice for a day,” he says, rolling his eyes, and Tooru is surprised, because his heart is usually pretty far from his sleeve for a boy of his age, yet Iwa-chan can voice his worries before he can even recognise them himself.

“But, Iwa-chan, that doesn’t mean I get to be a regular! I don’t want to be benched,” Tooru argues, pouting. The volleyball team of the neighbourhood is not enough anymore; he wants to go to tournaments, wants to play real games and improve because that’s what volleyball is about, but he wants to do it right, not as someone who experiences everything from the bench. He wants to excel and play as much as he can.

“Yeah but-” Iwa-chan’s voice is cut off by the sound of the front door opening and multiple muffled voices. Nobody announces they’re arrival and Oikawa rushes to check what is going on. He halts just outside the kitchen when he sees Aunt Hoshiko and his cousin, Yuki, who seems to be crying.

They are all sat down on the step by the front door and it’s when Tooru’s mother notices him and pats Yuki’s back that he realises his cousin shaved his head completely. It doesn’t suit him, Tooru thinks. His mother takes her shoes off and walks towards Tooru, clearly trying to hide the scene from him, who has no idea what is going on. He isn’t stupid, though, he knows something is off. “Tooru, sweetheart, take Hajime-kun to your room, but no crumbs on the bed, okay?”

Tooru does as she says and they end up trying to play volleyball in his room, because video games and cookies eventually get boring and passing the ball back and forth seems somehow a lot more fun. They both know the rule, _“no volleyball in the house!”_ , but they can obviously manage to control the ball without breaking something.

Except, they can’t. Tooru gets distracted by some sudden loud voices and the ball knocks his pencil holder, which doesn’t break but makes an awful thud; all the noises of the city around them, the rain, the television in the background, they all sound like a whisper in comparison and Tooru skips a heartbeat.

It’s when nobody goes to scold them that they look at each other, frowning. They don’t think twice and tiptoe out of Tooru’s room.

Hiding behind a wall, they learn that Yuki had no intention to shave his head; he has fallen in love with a close friend, who is apparently his soulmate, and lost his hair as a result. Tooru can’t take his wide, confused eyes off Iwa-chan, trying to understand what he might be thinking, as a thousand thoughts cross his own mind. Iwa-chan was right and he should have known. All those movies about finding your perfect match are a lie and he should have known; they are like Santa Claus.

He remembers when Iwa-chan said he didn’t believe in Santa Claus because he had seen the wrapping paper in his mother’s closet, but Tooru kept believing until he realised that Iwa-chan was obviously right and he should have known.

He doesn’t mind too much, he has no idea what love is, but somehow he feels betrayed. He wants to tell all his friends that soulmates aren’t what they think. Of course, people might get lucky, he assumes, because he once met a man who naturally smelled of oranges and a girl whose eyes would change colour every time she blinked and those traits, he thinks, are cool. But how can anyone fall in love when they don’t know what will happen to them? He remembers now all the times his mother has turned the TV off because they were talking about soulmates and he remembers when one of his friend said someone had become blind because of theirs.

Iwa-chan physically shakes him out of his thoughts and it’s when he sees him that Tooru remembers why his friend is there and which day it is. He decides to lock his new thoughts about soulmates somewhere in his brain, because he’s too young to think about them now and he should just race Iwa-chan to his bedroom and think about volleyball; so he does.

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! i've been working on this au for months and i have decided to share it now!  
> it's half finished at the moment, but it won't be a long fic!  
> feedback is very appreciated! it will definitely motivate me ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)
> 
> title is from [Always Coming Back by ONE OK ROCK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2RMz4TZ0i8) which fits this story very well!
> 
> yell at me on [tumblr!](https://akaakeiji.tumblr.com)


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